


Why Don't You Have Tea Instead?

by Morbid_Hatter



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: But Iorveth Still Loves Him Anyway, I don't make the rules I just follow them, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Roche Is A Bit Of An Idiot, Roche and Iorveth Retire to Toussaint, Slice of Life, Vernon Roche is Canonically Fantastic at Oral, based on a tweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29102064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morbid_Hatter/pseuds/Morbid_Hatter
Summary: Vernon Roche knew he wouldn’t fall under the conventional definition of smart. He wasn’t dumb - he learned to read and write when he was a child, had a head for numbers, could organize tactical advances in his sleep, and learned Hen Llinge in his late thirties; but sometimes he made monumentally stupid decisions.Case in point: agreeing to have his mother spend the winter in Toussiant with him. Now, normally he wouldn’t think twice about airing out the guest room and covering the mattress with clean linens which is why he found himself regretting every decision he had made in the last five years that led to what would inevitably be his demise.Well, not every decision, but most of them.
Relationships: Iorveth/Vernon Roche
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31





	Why Don't You Have Tea Instead?

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is definitely based on a tweet I found that says: "I was out of coffee the other morning so my husband said 'Why don't you have tea instead?' and the next time he wanted a blow job I said 'why don't you have tea instead?' and maybe it started a fight, I don't know."

Vernon Roche knew he wouldn’t fall under the conventional definition of smart. He wasn’t dumb - he learned to read and write when he was a child, had a head for numbers, could organize tactical advances in his sleep, and learned Hen Llinge in his late thirties; but sometimes he made monumentally stupid decisions. 

Case in point: agreeing to have his mother spend the winter in Toussiant with him. Now, normally he wouldn’t think twice about airing out the guest room and covering the mattress with clean linens which is why he found himself regretting every decision he had made in the last five years that led to what would inevitably be his demise. 

Well, not  _ every _ decision, but most of them. 

He knew better than to not accept Emperor Emyhr’s ‘offer’ to be relocated to Toussaint and use his ‘extensive military knowledge and tactical strategy’ to train the duchy’s Ducal Guard and Knights. He had known better than to fall into bed with his one-time enemy, but couldn’t bring himself to regret his decision. And he knew the best option for the both of them would be to have Iorveth come with him to Toussaint where they could both live in relative peace. 

There was a reason he had made it into his forties where everyone (except his mother) had assumed he wouldn’t live to see twenty with how hot-headed he was. It was a fair assumption, he knew. Roche knew when to back out of a fight, and his mother using  _ that tone _ in a letter was a fight he was going to lose. 

_...I haven’t seen you in so long, Vernon. I’m getting old. Who knows how many years I have left - you won’t deny your dear mother a visit, would you? _

Fucking conniving, his mother was. He should’ve seen it for the trap it was from the beginning, but he had only thought that it would be nice to get his mother out of Vizima for the winter and let her enjoy the more mild season surrounded by vineyards and rolling hills of the idyllic countryside in Toussaint. 

(Iorveth thought it was a good idea - but that wily bastard was probably in on the whole thing from the beginning.)

Imagine his surprise when he wandered into the kitchen to find his mother and his lover cackling over something as Iorveth pulled a tray of biscuits out of their oven and offering her a pot of honey he had collected from the bees in the apiary behind their house to drizzle on the biscuits. 

“Vernon!” they chorused, matching menacing smiles on their faces. 

_ Oh, I’m fucked _ , he thought to himself as he was led to the table by his mother whose face promised they would be having  _ a talk _ later. “You didn’t tell me you had a partner, Vernon. Especially one so handsome.”

Roche saw the pleased look on Iorveth’s face as his mother patted his cheek. It took him a long moment to answer, momentarily distracted by the rush of feelings that swept through his chest and left him off balance in the best way. “Yeah, I did,” he argued when he remembered his mother was expecting him to reply.

She raised a delicate eyebrow at him. “Yes, you said it wasn’t serious when we last saw each other.”

He wondered if he was going to spend the entire season in trouble with at least one of them. “And four years ago it  _ wasn’t _ serious. We weren’t in any kind of position to have anything serious.”

“There were plenty of positions though,” Iorveth added, unhelpful as ever. 

_ This is going to be the longest winter ever. _

\----

Roche spent his days as he normally did - training in the morning, drills in the afternoon, and evenings at home. Now though? Now with the addition of his mother in the house, he found himself hiding his face behind a large glass of wine more often than not when his mother would gleefully tell Iorveth everything he used to get into as a boy.

They got along too well. It was both wonderful and horrific. 

“Did he ever tell you about the time he knocked out the alderman’s son’s front teeth?”

“ _ Mom! _ ” No amount of pleading looks or outright begging would stop her in her mission to ruin his reputation.

But, when he was completely honest with himself, he wouldn’t have it any other way. He was thrilled that they got along - even if it was at his expense.

\----

A month into his mother’s visit, the cold finally reached Toussaint. It was still mild compared to the wet and cold miserable months in Temeria, but Roche could feel it in the very marrow of his bones. He was getting too old for this shit. 

It was because of this that he  _ really  _ got himself in trouble. 

Both he and Iorveth were coffee drinkers - they went through as much coffee as they did wine - and now that it was cold and there was an extra person in the house, they went through it even faster than usual. He had meant to pop into the market in Beauclair after putting the guardsmen through their training drills, but he was tired, and cold and just wanted to go home and get some sleep so he forgot.

It wasn’t like they would expire if they ran out of anything before he could stop the next day. Only, he forgot the next day too.

Waking up when it was still dark wasn’t something Roche particularly enjoyed, but it was necessary when he had to make it out to the tourney grounds by sunrise to start training with the Knights. Winter was the worst because they would now start  _ before _ the sun had fully risen thanks to the shorter days. 

Normally, he could sneak out of bed without waking Iorveth up - something that protected them both from excessive bodily harm - but it was more difficult to get up when he was comfortable, warm, and being used as a pillow. He was reluctant to move Iorveth, but he knew he had to - even if lazing about in bed was more appealing than spending his morning shouting at Knights about form and footwork. “Ior, love, you’ve gotta move. I need to get up.” 

Iorveth grumbled a slightly muffled curse at him before he rolled off Roche’s chest and promptly fell back asleep. “Yeah, I know I’m the worst,” he teased Iorveth’s back. He wondered not for the first time if Iorveth regretted teaching him Hen Llinge since now Roche could understand him when he switched from Common to Elder. 

He dressed quickly, mostly without much input from his brain, and stumbled through the house and definitely  _ did not _ knock over the weapons rack where he kept his falchion and a broadsword - and they definitely  _ did not _ clang together as they fell, thank you very much. After he quietly got ready, he was surprised to see Iorveth standing in the kitchen rubbing his eye and looking soft and sleep rumpled. “Go back to bed, love.” 

Iorveth shook his head. “Can’t. Have to cover the trees or we’re not going to have any olives next year. I’ve got them all picked and stored away, but -” the rest of his response was cut off by a yawn. 

Roche couldn’t help the small chuckled that escaped. He often wondered how he had managed to earn Iorveth’s trust and love to get to see him half-awake and vulnerable but he would thank whatever deity was responsible for it. He stood for longer than he should have just watching Iorveth as he shuffled around the kitchen, obviously searching for something - but he couldn’t help himself. He was helpless against the elegant sharpness of his distinctively elven features, brought to distraction by the vine tattoo that wound down his exposed chest, disappeared past the top of his pants, only to reappear again around his ankle, and totally charmed by the messy braid that now reached well past Iorveth’s shoulders. 

His distraction was what made him miss Iorveth’s question the first time and what got him in trouble. 

“Where did you put the coffee?” Iorveth asked. 

“Oh, we may be out. I didn’t get to the market yesterday,” he answered, sheepish. “Why don’t you just have tea instead - you’ve still got that tin of chamomile blend,” he added quickly to avoid explaining how he had forgotten to get some coffee. “I’ll buy us some today, love. Promise.” He closed the distance between them and brushed a kiss across Iorveth’s cheek before he turned to leave for the day. 

Being tired, cold, and still very much distracted by thoughts of his lover was the perfect combination of ingredients to bring about his ultimate misery, though he wasn’t aware of it. He had missed the way Iorveth’s nose twitched like it did was he was angry, and the gleam in his eye that promised murder. 

Blissfully unaware of any of this, Roche tacked up his horse and made his way down the road to the tourney grounds, wishing he could get there quickly so that he wouldn’t miss out on the coffee and croissants that Guillaume was in the habit of bringing. 

\----

That evening he had barely gotten through the door when a pair of beautiful but deadly hands wrapped themselves in the open collar of his tunic and  _ pulled _ . Only instinct kept him on his feet. 

"I've been thinking about your fucking mouth all day," Iorveth said with a low growl and a sharp nip at Roche’s bottom lip.

"While I am all for you showing me exactly what you want my mouth for, I've gone forty years without my mom walking in on me having sex and I'd like to keep that going," Roche said as Iorveth clawed at his chest as he tried to divest Roche of his tunic without separating more than necessary. 

“Fine, fine,” Iorveth conceded and took a step back, taking Roche’s shirt with him. “I’m so glad you don’t have to wear your old uniform or that stupid hat anymore. It’s so much easier to get you undressed without all the fucking layers.”

Before he had the chance to reply or defend his old uniform (more out of habit than anything at this point, Iorveth had definitely won that particular argument), he found himself thrown over his elf’s shoulder like he weighed nothing. “This is equal parts undignified and incredibly sexy.” 

Iorveth answered by nipping at his thigh. 

Roche wiggled around until he was able to undo his belt so that he could drop his swords before they crossed the threshold to their room - no weapons in the bedroom had been a rule since before they had admitted to having feelings for each other - and sent a mental apology to his swords as they clattered to the floor. 

Iorveth all but tossed him onto the bed and stood over him with a predatory look on his face. “Wait -” Roche said, holding a hand out to stop Iorveth from stalking over to him, “the door?” Iorveth rolled his eye so hard it looked like it hurt but did as Roche asked. 

“Better?” Iorveth asked while stripping out of his clothes with astonishing efficiency. 

Roche waited until Iorveth was completely naked before he answered with a leer “Yeah, better now.” 

When they first start sleeping together, Roche was thrilled to find out that the notion of elves not feeling sexual desire like humans did was so,  _ so _ wrong. Admittedly, the only elf he’d ever had sex with was Iorveth so it could be just that Iorveth was different than other elves; but Roche didn’t intend to fuck other elves to find out - he was perfectly happy with only sleeping with Iorveth for the rest of his life. 

He could spend the rest of his life with his face buried between Iorveth’s thighs and regret nothing (except perhaps not doing this since the moment they met, but perfect vision in hindsight and all that). It was always a rush to reduce his fierce and strong lover to a trembling mess of nerves. There was nothing quite like taking Iorveth apart until his muscles went lax and every whispered word that left his mouth was in Elder. And after years of being together, Roche had figured out how to wring all sorts of noises from Iorveth. 

Iorveth came with a muffled scream like he was biting back the sound before he all but collapsed around Roche’s head. “ _ Fuck _ ,” Iorveth gasped, his thighs shaking around Roche’s ears. “I could die sitting on your face and I would be happy about it.” 

Iorveth managed to sit up and shuffle off Roche so he could catch his breath - not that Roche was complaining or at all minded how Iorveth curled up in a sated heap around him. However, there was something about  _ seeing him _ relaxed and smiling that settled some primal part of his mind. “I hope I was able to recreate what you had been thinking about all day.” 

Iorveth opened his eye and let his gaze travel from Roche’s face down to the very obvious tent in his pants and back up to look him in the eye. “Your mouth is one of your best features and you fucking know that.” 

Now Roche didn’t consider himself a selfish lover, he got just as much enjoyment from being the cause of Iorveth’s pleasure as he did from chasing his own - but Iorveth had gotten him wound tighter than a spring and he was only a man. “Uh, you okay to go again or -” he let the rest of his question trail off in the hopes that Iorveth had more ideas for them. 

_ Uh oh, _ Roche couldn’t help but think to himself when Iorveth’s face changed from sated and happy to unreadable in an instant. “Why don’t you have tea instead?” he asked and then turned over and feigned sleep. 

He gaped at Iorveth’s back for a long moment before he got up and left the bedroom so as not to start an argument he would  _ most definitely  _ lose. 

His mother was leaning casually against the kitchen table, primly sipping a goblet full of wine as she leveled him with a Look. “So, Vernon, what’s got you stomping around here like an angry wyvern?” When he didn’t respond, she continued unperturbed, “from the trail of clothes and the noises your darling partner was making, I wasn’t expecting to see either of you tonight, especially not with such a situation going on,” she gestured to his pants and an eyebrow raised in judgment. “Is everything alright? Do you need to go see a healer?” 

Roche felt a muscle in his jaw tic from how hard he was clenching his teeth. “Mom,  _ please _ . The only ‘situation’ I have is  _ him _ ,” he grumbled, feeling himself blush under her scrutiny. Sometimes it really sucked having a mother who was also a Madame - she was not and had never been shy around him about sex, and that was all well and good, but sometimes there were some things he didn’t want to talk to her about. “That conniving little  _ twllt din _ cockblocked me!” 

She tutted at him like she knew what he had said but showed some sympathy and poured him a goblet of wine without further comment. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

He huffed and sat heavily on the floor with his back against the wall. “I fucked up. I should’ve seen it coming, so it’s my own fault for falling into a very obvious trap. But I get a bit stupid when he gets all demanding and needy on me.” He downed the wine and held up the goblet, hoping he looked pathetic enough that she would pour him some more. Once he had more, he went on, “I told him I was gonna do something and then I forgot. And then forgot again. And I just realized, I forgot  _ again _ . Fuck, I may as well just sleep out here. Or maybe I’ll run to Geralt’s, that way if Ior wants to murder me, he’ll have to go elsewhere to do it.” 

“Don’t be dramatic. What did you forget?”

He was a little insulted that she called him dramatic. Out of everyone currently in the house, he was  _ the least _ dramatic. “We were running low on coffee and I forgot to get some the other day and we were totally out this morning. And apparently, he didn’t like my suggested alternative very much as he decided to use it against me just now. Leaves me with my cock hard as steel and says ‘why don’t you have tea instead?’” He was ranting, he knew that. He had officially run out of fucks to give, and couldn’t care less that he was now doing exactly what he hadn’t wanted to do just a few minutes before and discussing his current sex life with his mother. 

She made a sympathetic noise at him and smoothed his hair back out of his face as she had done to soothe him as a child. “I admire his restraint. I’ve had men castrated for less. He must really love you.” Roche felt himself melt at her casual observation (after he flinched at her even more casual admittance to castrating some of her brothels clientele). It wasn’t a surprise to him - he knew Iorveth loved him, they weren’t ones to hold back from saying they loved each other, but it was nice to know that it was obvious to others too. “Or, he’d rather you keep your cock where it is.” 

_ Good feeling is gone _ . “Thanks, mum, you’re a real peach.”

She flicked him on the ear before she resumed petting his hair. “I’m just saying, Vernon. Take it as a compliment! You obviously inherited more than just your looks from me.” 

He huffed and drained his wine again. “‘S not enough to keep me out of the doghouse tonight,” he mumbled into his empty goblet.

She took his empty goblet but didn’t refill it for him, the traitor. Instead, she left him to sit in the kitchen by himself as he tried to figure out the best way to get himself out of trouble. It wasn’t the severe case of blue balls that he was most upset about if he was being honest with himself. It was more the obvious dismissal and the cold shoulder he had been shown that hurt more. 

Roche knew he had fucked up and broke a promise and getting the cold shoulder after Iorveth rode his face was actually not that bad of a punishment. But,  _ fuck _ , it sucked. He hated feeling like he had failed, especially when it came to their relationship. It wasn’t perfect by any means - they argued, went to bed angry with each other and a number of little things, but forgetting to buy coffee felt like it was so much worse. Mostly, he knew it was because he wanted to be someone Iorveth could count on now, someone who was better than the man he had been before when they were no more than bitter rivals. 

He was startled out of his brooding by something smacking him in the chest. “What the fuck?!”

“I picked this when I went into town to do some networking with Isabelle down at _The_ _Belles of Beauclair_.” Of course, she took the time to network while she was supposed to be spending the season relaxing. “Now here’s what you’re going to do: go make him a cup of coffee, apologize for being a twat, and then you’re going to spend tomorrow together to make up for it.”

Roche turned the waxy paper bag around and saw the stylized logo of their favorite coffee shop ‘Higher Grounds’ which was run by a pair of elves that were very passionate about coffee and who looked like they drank enough of their own supply that they never slept. Iorveth was concerned for their wellbeing, Roche thought they were hilarious. “Thanks, mom. But I can’t take tomorrow off, I’ve got drills with the guard and the Knights tomorrow.” 

She helped him to his feet and let him get started on the coffee. “That’s where you’re wrong. See, I may be old, but I’m not dead and I’m not deaf.” Roche snorted inelegantly when she called herself old - she was fifty-six, she wasn’t old yet. She continued as if he hadn’t interrupted her. “When you made all that racket this morning, I couldn’t manage to get back to sleep so I went to see if Iorveth needed help. He assured me that he had everything under control but that he would literally kill for a decent cup of coffee so I figured you were out and that I’d do something nice. I’ve seen how tired you’ve been recently, Vernon. You two need a day to relax and rest together. So after I left  _ Belles,  _ I took the time to make a request with the Duchess while she was holding an open forum.” 

People often wondered how Roche, a street urchin with nothing to his name, had managed to climb through the ranks to be Foltest’s right hand and one of the few people whose council the king had listened to and actually taken into account. He would always attribute it to his mother who had a way of knowing what she wanted and getting her way with ease. He had learned from the best. 

“You now have the next week off and she expects you at the palace for tea in two days to go over a new training schedule that will be more beneficial to both you and your trainees.”

Roche felt a rush of affection for her. “You’re the best, mom. Seriously.” 

She nodded. “I know. And you can thank me by no longer dragging your feet and giving that boy a family again, even if it’s just the three of us.” 

He choked on his next breath and felt a flush burn his nose and cheeks. “ _ Mom _ ,” he hissed through his teeth. “I’m working on it. But it’s hard to blend human and elvish customs together and I don’t want to fuck up my proposal.” 

“See that you don’t, Vernon. I adore him and he’s good for you, keeps you on your toes.” With that, she stood up on her tiptoes and brushed a kiss against his cheek before he bid him goodnight. 

Roche stood in the kitchen while the coffee finished and thought about what his mother said. He had been planning on asking Iorveth eventually, but he had been dragging his feet - unsure if he wouldn’t ruin what they had by asking for too much. 

It was something to think about later, once he was able to make up for his most recent fuck up. 

The door wasn’t locked on him so he took that as a good sign. Iorveth was sitting up against the headboard with a book propped up against his legs. Roche was a little disappointed to see that he had gotten dressed again, but he figured he deserved it. “Mom saved the day,” he said in greeting, holding out the cup of coffee as a peace offering. 

Iorveth eyed the cup critically but took it from him all the same. “Yes, at least Eliza remembers.” 

Roche couldn’t help but flinch at the frosty tone or what he was implying. “I know. I’m sorry, Squirrel. I’ve got most of the next week off if that helps. I’ve got to meet the Duchess in two days but other than that, I’m all yours.”

It was quiet as Iorveth drank his coffee instead of saying anything. “I guess that’s acceptable,” he said finally after he set the empty mug on his bedside table. “You’re not off the hook yet, but it gets cold in here without you to keep me warm.” 

He couldn’t help but smile. “I’m glad I can be of use to you.” 

“You have your uses, I admit,” Iorveth said while he put his book away and gestured for Roche to join him. 

He hadn’t even settled all the way in bed before Iorveth tucked his feet under Roche’s thigh. “Fuck, you and your icy toes are going to be the death of me.”

“Ah, but you love me anyway. Besides, I shan’t kill you, I wouldn’t want to upset Eliza.” 

“Yeah, don’t upset my mom. She’s a menace on a good day.” He felt something settle in his chest as Iorveth curled up closer to him and rested his head on his shoulder. “And of course I love you, no one else could possibly measure up to you, or put up with me like you can.”

They stayed curled up together until Iorveth eventually fell asleep against him. Carefully, ever so carefully, Roche maneuvered them so that they were both lying down. “Rwy’n dy garu di,” he whispered against the back of Iorveth’s neck as he wrapped his arms around Iorveth.

“I love you too,” Iorveth mumbled back, “but your accent is still awful.” 

“Cer i sychu fy penol fi,” Roche shot back, sticking his tongue out at Iorveth even though the elf wouldn’t be able to see it. 

“Nice try. As I said, you’re not off the hook yet,” he said wIth a yawn and a condescending pat on his arm. 

As they settled down to sleep, Roche found himself wondering why he was really so worried about asking Iorveth to marry him. If they could manage to make up after every argument so far, and they were both able to move past what they had each done before, then why wouldn’t they work? 

He had a gift picked out already, all he had to do was ask.  _ On the New Year, _ he resolved to himself.  _ I’ll ask him on the New Year _ .

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Welsh to English translation
> 
> Twllt din - asshole   
> Rwy’n dy garu di - I love you  
> Cer i sychu fy penol fi - go and suck my ass
> 
> The two insults are from a welsh blogger explaining swears to English speakers and google translate is responsible for ‘I love you’ if either are wrong, I apologize and take about three-quarters of the blame.


End file.
